


Cast

by the_misfortune_teller



Series: Right Where I Belong [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Future Fic, M/M, injured!Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-12
Updated: 2013-03-12
Packaged: 2017-12-05 03:16:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/718249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_misfortune_teller/pseuds/the_misfortune_teller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles does stupid things, Stiles breaks his arm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cast

**Author's Note:**

> From the _"(+1.5 years) Watching Stiles and the rest of the pack graduate high school together and the party that Lydia throws afterwards, which is all good fun until Stiles falls out of a tree and breaks his arm / (+1.5 years) The picture of an extremely sad looking wolf and the words “you’re such an idiot” that Derek scrawls across his cast"_ prompt from the epilogue for [I'll Be With You Through The Dark](http://archiveofourown.org/works/588130/chapters/1057484)

** (+1.5 years) Watching Stiles and the rest of the pack graduate high school together and the party that Lydia throws afterwards, which is all good fun until Stiles falls out of a tree and breaks his arm _/_ (+1.5 years) The picture of an extremely sad looking wolf and the words “you’re such an idiot” that Derek scrawls across his cast. **

Derek sunk lower in his seat, feeling uncomfortable as several members of the graduating class shot intrigued glances in his direction. He’d been dragged along to enough parties and high school functions over the past two years to have gotten used to the whispered comments from Stiles’ peers and under normal circumstances, wouldn’t let them get to him. Today felt different though; he’d spent the afternoon watching his pack graduate high school which had put him in a morose, contemplative mood as he thought about them spreading out across the state and country in just a few months time.

He’d argued with Stiles a few weeks earlier, unable to understand why Stiles had turned down a place at Chico State, where Scott and Isaac were headed in favour of attending Humboldt State instead. Despite all of his grumbling and complaining about how Chico was a much quicker drive than Arcata, Stiles had been resolute and had won him over with arguments of yes, they did offer the same course at Chico, but Humboldt was much smaller and smaller classes meant it would be easier for him to concentrate, and that he needed to break away from Scott sometime and that he was an adult now and needed to get out of Beacon Hills for a bit. Derek huffed to himself as he recalled Stiles’ arguments, which the more he thought about it, were Stiles doing his circuitous talking trick until Derek agreed with whatever he said. He’d been completely OK with the idea of Stiles going to college until the actual graduation ceremony when it suddenly dawned on him that Stiles was going to be living nearly three hours away for the next four years; he was not even slightly OK with that.

An affronted yelp, followed by a peal of laughter and a loud splash made him look up to see Stiles haring away across the lawn towards the tree line. Glancing towards the pool, he saw Scott fully clothed in the water, flailing his way towards the ladder and yelling about how he was going to kick Stiles’ ass.

“Oh for God’s sake.” Derek muttered to himself as Stiles scrambled up one of the trees, taunting Scott as he climbed higher.

“Do you ever get the feeling we’re dating a pair of complete idiots?” Derek looked up in surprise to see Allison perched on the arm of his chair, smiling wistfully at Scott as he tried to clamber up the tree to grab Stiles, his wet clothes weighing him down and hindering his progress.

“I think mine’s the bigger idiot.” Derek replied, his fond smile being replaced with a frown as Stiles climbed higher up the tree, grinning like the Cheshire cat. “At least if Scott falls out of the tree he won’t suffer any lasting damage.”

“Little wounded pride, maybe.” Allison laughed lightly, her nose wrinkling slightly. Derek forced himself not to dwell on how Kate-like she looked in that brief moment, keeping his attention fixed on Stiles. It was one of the many reasons he didn’t particularly like talking to Allison, and generally tried to keep on safe topics such as Scott and the weather and school; anything that didn’t involve the phrase ‘remember how your aunt killed my family’ cropping up.

“Where are you going to college?” He asked brusquely, aware that he should at least try and make some kind of conversation with her. He drained the last of his drink and glanced up at her expectantly.

“Portland State.” She replied uncertainly, watching as Scott gained on Stiles, grabbing for his ankle. “I’m thinking of majoring in history.” She paused, frowning as up in the tree, Scott lunged for Stiles again, just missing him. “Stiles is going to Humboldt, right?”

“Yeah. Anthropology.” Derek sighed.

“You’re going to miss him, aren’t you?” Allison asked, giving him a soft smile. Derek shrugged, about to open his mouth to talk but was interrupted but the cut off sound of Stiles screaming as he fell out of the tree, promptly followed by a sickening thump as he hit the ground and the unmistakable sound of bone breaking.

Derek reached Stiles just as Scott dropped out of the tree to crouch down beside him.

“Is he OK? I heard something break.”

“I’m fine, Scott.” Stiles grumbled, swatting at Derek as he tried to push himself into a seated position. “Just my arm’s kind of ow.”

“It’s kind of broken.” Derek told him, helping him to his feet. “You need to go to the hospital.”

“No, no I’m fine!” Stiles replied. “We should, ow, totally carry on with the party. Lydia gets pissed when we leave her parties.” He gestured towards the house with his broken arm; Derek felt his stomach flip over at the sound of bone grating against bone. From the disgusted look on Scott’s face, it was clear he’d heard it to and he reached out, gently grabbing hold of Stiles’ upper arms and pinning them against his body.

“I think Derek’s right, man. You need to get that looked at.”

Stiles protested weakly, trying to squirm out of Scott’s hold. “You’re all just, ow, making a fuss over nothing! Ow. It’s probably just bruised or something.”

“So let Derek take you to the hospital and then you can come back when they give you the all clear.” Scott suggested, glancing at Derek over Stiles’ shoulder. “Lydia’ll understand.”

“We should at least tell her we’re going to leave...” Stiles mumbled, looking over his shoulder towards the house.

“Scott’ll tell her.” Derek assured him, wrapping one arm around Stiles’ shoulders as Scott let go of him. “Anyway, she might not even notice we’re gone if we’re quick.” He glanced up at Scott, who had a guilty expression on his face, as though it was his fault Stiles had fallen. “Did he hit his head or anything?”

“Umm, I don’t think so, but I didn’t really see. I did try and grab him.” Scott replied despondently. “Want me to call his dad?”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll call him.” Derek shrugged. “I’ll, uh, text you later. From the hospital.”

Scott nodded, traipsing away towards the house, his head bowed and his hands in his pockets. Derek used his grip on Stiles’ shoulders to turn him around and pilot him in the direction of the driveway.

“Can I drive your car?” Stiles asked, snuggling against Derek.

“Drunk and with a broken arm? Yeah, right.” Derek snorted, raising an eyebrow. “Last time I let you drive it, you got pulled over. Your dad has given me strict instructions not to let you anywhere near the wheel of it again.”

“You used to be fun.” Stiles pouted, elbowing Derek in the ribs.

“Just get in the car Stiles.” Derek sighed, keeping a tight grip on Stiles’ good arm to stop him heading back towards the house.

“But the party’s still going!” Stiles protested feebly, trying to twist out of Derek’s grip. “Why can’t I go back to the party?”

“Because your arm’s broken.” Derek reminded him gently, pulling open the car door and trying to manoeuvre Stiles into the front seat. “We need to go to the hospital.”

“Are you sure it’s broken?” Stiles giggled. “Only it doesn’t hurt at all. I think you’re just over reacting because you don’t like high school parties.”

“Stiles.” Derek said pointedly, nodding down at where he had a tight grip on Stiles’ arm, the veins of his hand swollen and black as he leeched his pain.

“Oh. I thought maybe it was because of the alcohol.”

“No. Get in.”

Stiles reluctantly obliged, flopping bonelessly into the seat and trying to fasten his seat belt with one hand only to gasp loudly as he knocked his elbow against the seat. Derek slammed the car door and pulled his phone from his pocket as he walked around to the driver’s side, dialling Stiles’ home phone number as he leant against the car. It was answered after a few rings by a sleepy sounding John.

“It’s Derek.” He bent down to check on Stiles as he spoke. “Can you meet us at the hospital.” He paused for a minute listening to what John had to say. “Ten minutes, I guess? We’re just leaving Lydia’s place now.”

He slid into the car, leaning across and fastening Stiles’ seat belt for him before wrapping his hand around his wrist to take away some of the pain. Stiles sighed happily, his head flopping to one side as he smiled at Derek.

“Is my dad pissed?”

“No, just worried.” Derek told him, tracing the veins of Stiles’ wrist with his thumb. “He’s going to meet us at the hospital.” He let go of Stiles’ arm and started the car, pulling out onto the road at a much slower pace than usual for fear for hurting Stiles more.

**. o o o .**

“What did he do then?” John asked, arriving in the waiting area just as Stiles was lead away towards the radiology department for an x-ray.

“Fell out of a tree.” Derek sighed, pushing his hand through his hair as John sat down beside him.

“A tree? Really?”

“Yeah.”

John gave a small snort of laughter and settled back in his chair. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“I was trying to keep an eye on him.” Derek mumbled, jamming his hands in his pockets and slouching over. “He was dicki...uh, messing around with Scott.”

“That’s how most of his visits here start.” John sighed. “Just as well the department has good cover.”

“Cover?”

“Health insurance.” John clarified. “Comes in handy when you live with Stiles.” He regarded Derek for a moment longer. “I suppose that’s something you’ve never had to worry about.”

“No, not really. Sorry.”

“Sorry? For what? Stiles falling out of a tree? I’m guessing you weren’t the one that encouraged him to climb it in the first place.”

“Well, no, but I’m suppose to look out for him. For all of them.”

“It’s not your job to make sure Stiles doesn’t do stupid things.” John laughed, picking up an ancient magazine from the table in the middle of the waiting room.

“It is.” Derek sighed, looking down at the floor. “Part of being their alpha.”

“Oh.”

They lapsed into silence, John leafing through his magazine and Derek staring unhappily at the floor. Stiles was lead back through to where they sat some twenty minutes later, holding his broken arm and looking thoroughly miserable.

“They said I’ve broken my radius.” He grumbled, sitting down next to Derek. “And now I’ve got to wait for to have a cast put on it. Sadistic x-ray bitch wouldn’t give me any painkillers.” He added, sinking lower in his chair and resting his head on Derek’s shoulder.

“Language.” John tutted. “Why wouldn’t she give you painkillers?”

“Said I couldn’t have any ‘cause I’ve been drinking.”

“Just one of the many reasons you’re not supposed to drink until you’re 21.” John quipped, picking up another magazine.

“Dad, I could have been 21 and fallen out of a tree and broke my arm and she still wouldn’t have given me drugs.” Stiles complained. “She’s evil.”

“I hope by the time you’re 21 you won’t be getting drunk and climbing trees.”

“Think Melissa’s working tonight?” Stiles asked abruptly, getting to his feet and looking around as though Melissa was suddenly going to appear from behind the sad looking potted plant in the corner. “She likes me. She’ll give me drugs.”

“Sit down.” Derek sighed, tugging on the back of Stiles’ shirt until he took the hint and sat back down, making a sad little whimpering sound as he knocked his arm against the chair. Derek rolled his eyes and grabbed hold of Stiles’ hand, linking their fingers together, his veins blackening as he leeched away enough pain to keep Stiles quiet. He could see John leaning forward in his seat to peer at their hands and felt slightly self conscious, partly because John had never seen him take away anyone’s pain before and partly because, no matter how aware John was that he and Stiles were sleeping together, and had been for some time, he still felt a little uncomfortable with John seeing that side of their relationship.

“Should your hand being doing that?” John asked curiously, gesturing to Derek’s hand.

“He’s taking away the pain from my arm, dad.” Stiles yawned, curling into Derek’s side. “It’s a thing they can do. Sneaky wolves.”

John looked at him for confirmation, as though he was unsure Stiles was telling the truth; Derek nodded shortly and opened his mouth to explain to John but was interrupted by a nurse appearing in the corridor, asking Stiles to come through to the facture clinic so they could fit his cast.

“Come with me?” Stiles asked apprehensively as he got to his feet, keeping a tight hold on Derek’s hand.

**. o o o .**

“That’s...uh. Pink.” John frowned when they rejoined him in the waiting room.

“Yeah well, I wanted red, you know, to match Derek’s eyes, but they didn’t have any red left.” Stiles pouted, staring down at his cast. “This was the next best thing.”

“They offered you blue.” Derek pointed out grumpily. “You didn’t have to get bright pink.”

“I’m not conforming to society’s gender stereotypes!” Stiles told him loudly. “Hey dad, that fracture doctor said I can get Percocet.”

“Oh wonderful.” John groaned. “Because you weren’t a complete nightmare the last time they prescribed you that.”

“Can I just get my drugs?” Stiles interrupted. “Instead of a lecture?”

“How about I get them for you?” John told him, twitching the prescription slip out of Stiles’ unresisting fingers. “And you sit here and wait quietly for me to come back.”

“I can give him a ride home.” Derek suggested. “In case you’re waiting a while.”

“Thanks Derek.” John smiled. “Just try and keep him quiet when you get in, will you? Don’t want him waking Svatava and making her worry.”

Derek nodded, steering a reluctant Stiles in the direction of the parking lot, ignoring his complaints about lack of drugs and wanting to go back to Lydia’s party.

**. o o o .**

He managed to get Stiles home and up to his room with the minimum of complaint and noise, rolling his eyes when Stiles flopped back on the bed, insistent that he couldn’t take his own jeans off because of his cast. He grudgingly pulled off Stiles’ sneakers before popping the button on his jeans and yanking the zipper down.

“There. You can do the rest yourself.”

“Can’t. Arm hurts too much.” Stiles grumbled.

“Stiles, I’m not undressing you. Just take your jeans off and come to bed.”

“Why do you hate me?”

“Because you fall out of trees and make me worry.” Derek replied, removing his own jeans and sliding into bed. Stiles watched him for a minute before shimmying out of his pants and crossing the room to switch the light off.

“Were you really worried about me?” He asked as he lay down beside Derek, his bad arm outstretched.

“You broke your arm.” Derek huffed, shuffling closer and wrapping his arm around Stiles’ waist. “Of course I was worried.”

“You know, you’re probably going to have to spend a lot more time here.” Stiles murmured sleepily, arching his back and pressing up against Derek. “While I’ve got this stupid thing on. It’s going to make a lot of my normal routines kind of difficult.”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to put your own pants on.” Derek replied quietly, kissing the back of his neck.

“Wasn’t talking about pants.” Stiles told him, turning onto his back so he could see him. “Other routines. That involve the use of my left hand.” He grinned impishly in the dark room and waggled his eyebrows.

“You need me to write stuff for you?” Derek asked innocently, deciding to play dumb.

“No, idiot! How am I supposed to jerk off with this thing on? I’d probably strip all the skin off my dick if I tried!”

“Use your other hand. Are we really talking about this?”

“Yes. And it’s not the same. I think you should come round and offer your superior hand job skills. Otherwise I might die.”

“No one dies from not masturbating.” Derek sighed wearily. “Go to sleep.”

“I bet there’s documented cases of people who’ve died from not masturbating.” He kicked the comforter to one side, trying to roll out of bed. “I’m going to Google it.”Derek growled softly, grabbing hold of Stiles’ shirt to stop him from moving.

“Stop being stupid and come back.” He slid his hand under Stiles’ shirt, trailing his fingers over his stomach and pressing a kiss against his lower back. “Please?”

Stiles sighed dramatically but lay back down, using his good hand to grab hold of Derek’s arm and dragging it over his waist. “Sorry I made you worry.” He murmured, burying his face in the pillow. Derek shushed him, trailing kisses across the back of his neck and shoulders; after a little while, he heard Stiles’ breathing even out as he fell asleep and relaxed slightly, snuggling closer to Stiles, his nose pressed against Stiles’ neck as he breathed in his comforting scent, trying to stop his brain from replaying the terrifying sound of Stiles screaming as he’d fallen out of the tree.

**. o o o .**

Stiles groaned as he woke up, his head pounding and a dull ache in his left arm. He lifted his head off the pillow slightly to see Derek sitting up with his sore arm across his lap and groaned again when he saw the bright pink cast on his arm, the events of the night before rushing back.

“Why’d you let me pick pink?” He asked Derek accusingly, watching as he drew on the cast with a Sharpie.

“Oh I tried to dissuade you.” Derek replied quietly, not looking up. “You made some convoluted argument about not conforming to society’s gender roles and demanded the pink.”

“I was hoping I’d dreamt it.”

“Nope.”

“What are you doing anyway?” He tried to pull his arm out of Derek’s grip and received a glare in response.

“Drawing on your cast. To make it look less ridiculous. You can look when I’m done.”

“And then will you make my hangover go away?” Stiles asked feebly, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Maybe.”

“Oh shit.” Stiles groaned suddenly, clapping his free hand over his eyes. “I was supposed to drive baba to the airport this afternoon. Shit.”

“It’s fine.” Derek muttered, scrawling something under his drawing with a flourish before finally looking up. “I already told her I’d drive her.”

“Why are you so awesome to me?” Stiles smiled, turning on his side and smiling up at Derek.

“Because I love you.” Derek shrugged, clicking the cap back on the Sharpie and tossing it onto the desk. “I’ve got some stuff I need to take care of. Are you going to be OK until later?”

“Be OK? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re not going to break anything else?” Derek smirked, getting to his feet. Stiles scowled and kicked him in the leg, lifting his cast up to examine Derek’s handiwork.

“I am not an idiot!” He grumbled as Derek bent down to kiss him briefly. “That’s a terribly mean thing to write on someone’s arm. And what’s with the derpy dog?”

“It’s a wolf.” Derek frowned. “And you are an idiot. But I still like you anyway.” With that, he left, easily avoiding the pillow that Stiles launched at him. He scrabbled on his bedside table for his phone, sending a text to Derek about how the picture on cast looked more like a depressed poodle than a wolf before going in search of his dad and the lovely, lovely Percocet he remembered the nice fracture doctor prescribing.

 


End file.
